Harry Potter was pinned face-down by the well-trained Aurors.
His expression was blank, his eyes unfocused and confused. It was clear the so-called Chosen One hadn’t yet processed what was happening.
But once he realized the misunderstanding, Harry began to struggle, trying to speak and explain himself.
The Aurors, however, their faces cold and impassive, gave him no chance to speak. Compared to ordinary wizards, these enforcers of magical law were far more domineering.
“Wait, I’m not—”
“Silence! We’ll sort it out later. You’ll have plenty of time to explain.”
“Ugh!”
His hands were twisted behind his back, the sudden pressure and sharp pain forcing a grimace onto his face. He could barely form words through the discomfort.
He was the victim here—so why was he the one being restrained like a criminal?
Meanwhile, Ron Weasley, his leg broken, simply lay motionless beside him, having already resigned himself to his fate.
He knew what Aurors were like. And perhaps the numbness on his face also came from the shock of learning that the rat he’d cared for all those years had been a short, middle-aged wizard all along.
The revelation had left him reeling.
...
Compared to Harry Potter’s miserable situation, Draco and the others were far luckier.
Whether it was because they had moved farther away in time or because the Aurors were so confident that the culprit wouldn’t linger at the scene, the group managed to avoid being detected by those securing the area.
From their hiding place, they could clearly hear the Aurors talking.
“Report. We’ve confirmed the identities of everyone present.”
“Oh?”
“The man is Sirius Black, the escaped convict from Azkaban. The others are Hogwarts third-year students Harry Potter and his classmate Ron Weasley.”
Though the Aurors had arrived late and failed to spot Draco and the others nearby, they had still managed to determine everyone’s identities in record time. The name Sirius Black made the reporting Auror’s voice tremble with barely contained excitement.
They didn’t yet know what had happened here, but one thing was certain: the credit for capturing Sirius Black would be theirs.
“Sirius Black… and Harry Potter?”
The cold tone reached Harry’s ears. Looking up, he caught sight of polished black boots and the hem of a long coat.
The man seemed particularly interested in Harry’s presence here.
“Tell me, Mr. Potter—why are you and your friend here? Don’t tell me you defeated Sirius Black.”
The man didn’t loosen his grip. His voice was as frigid as if he were interrogating a criminal. Harry clenched his teeth in frustration.
He didn’t deserve to be treated like this.
“.....”
“Won’t talk? Or can’t explain?”
Barely managing to lift his head, Harry watched as the wizard crouched down to his level.
Only then did he see the man’s face clearly—tea-brown hair streaked with gray, thick brows, and sharp, lionlike features.
Behind his gold-rimmed glasses gleamed eyes both piercing and unyielding. The air of authority and strength around him was unmistakable.
His decisive tone and cold precision had already made it clear who he was—Rufus Scrimgeour.
A wizard capable of fighting dark wizards and leading Aurors was not someone Harry Potter could stand against.
When their eyes met, the anger and defiance in Harry’s chest faded instantly, dissolving like smoke.
...
Just as fear began creeping over Harry Potter—
Crack!
Swish, swish, swish!
“Calm down, calm down—it’s me!”
“The Minister? Lower your wands, everyone!”
Cornelius Fudge, who had just appeared, nearly wet himself when several wands instantly swung in his direction.
Truth be told, the timid Minister of Magic hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place. He knew all too well how trigger-happy Aurors could be during missions.
If he weren’t the Minister, and if Scrimgeour hadn’t spoken up at once, he might have been taken down by his own Aurors right then and there.
But he had no choice. If Scrimgeour truly treated Harry Potter as a suspect, Fudge couldn’t possibly endure Dumbledore’s wrath.
So, the moment he received word of what was happening—and knowing full well what kind of man Scrimgeour was—he had rushed to the scene without delay...
“Minister?”
“Rufus, release our Harry at once. I can personally guarantee this has nothing to do with him.”
“But, Minister—”
“That’s an order!”
“...Release him.”
Freed at last, Harry Potter was helped to his feet by Cornelius Fudge himself.
The gesture earned the Minister a surge of gratitude from Harry, while deepening his unease toward the Aurors.
“Are you alright, Harry?”
“Thank you, Minister.”
“I’m sure we can discuss what happened here in detail later. For now, our priority is dealing with Sirius Black. Correct, my most capable Head of Aurors?”
“As you wish.”
With a curt nod, Rufus Scrimgeour began issuing sharp commands to his team.
But before he could finish, Harry blurted out, his voice urgent—
“Wait, Minister!”
“Harry?”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Sirius Black might know something. And Peter Pettigrew—he’s actually a rat! I mean, Peter Pettigrew isn’t dead—he just turned into a—”
“Oh, by Merlin, Harry, you must be in shock. You need to rest.”
“No! He’s an Animagus! I saw it myself! And more importantly, the wizards who took Peter Pettigrew away—they’re probably working for Voldemort, because—”
“Harry!!”
The Minister’s sharp cry, along with the sudden ripple of intense magical energy from the surrounding Aurors, cut him off mid-sentence.
Harry’s mouth hung open, but the rest of his words died on his tongue.
The warning in the Minister’s eyes—and the icy stares from every Auror present—made it unmistakably clear just how terrified they were of that name.
Terrified of that power.
You don’t have to fear it—but you must never take it lightly.
Especially in the wizarding world...